


Diamond Sky Above My Head

by Fangirl1232



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hemospectrum, M/M, Multi, Not Sadstuck, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Prophetic Visions, Rebellion, Revolution, Sadstuck, Visions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22644313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirl1232/pseuds/Fangirl1232
Summary: You may know my story. But do you know what it was like to really live it? They call me the Signless. The Sufferer. But do you really know what I Suffered for? Blood weaves its history, and mine is still being told, sung in the veins of my descendant. But to understand what that means for him, you must know what it meant for me. This is my story. The Story of the Signless. But it is more than that. This is the story of how I met my moirail, the Psionic, and how he helped me build my rebellion alongside the Disciple and the Dolorosa, and how despite our revolution failing and my eventual execution and his imprisonment, things can sometimes turn out alright for a change.
Relationships: The Disciple/The Psiioniic | The Helmsman/The Signless | The Sufferer, The Disciple/The Signless | The Sufferer, The Psiioniic | The Helmsman/The Signless | The Sufferer
Kudos: 5





	Diamond Sky Above My Head

**Author's Note:**

> I have been a Homestuck fan since February 2012. And yet this is my first Homestuck fanfiction. I am a HUGE ancestor fan and I've decided it is high time I contribute.

The twin moons of Alternia were low on the horizon, and Kankri was not sure what had awoken him. He had crawled out from the cave that his matesprite had found two nights before to find a disquieting hush falling over the relatively peaceful landscape. A few trees were scattered here and there, with long grass that usually hissed slightly in the wind. But not a leaf rustled on the trees. He looked back towards the dark opening of the cave where they had taken shelter from the burning rays of the sun, hesitating.

Then the not-quite-a-feeling solidified into unease. “I am the servant of my visions,” he whispered to the stars. Since he’d been a grub in the breeding caverns he’d been special. Born with a mutant bright red hue to his blood, no lusus had been bred to choose and care for him. He’d been doomed to die. That is, until his guardian, a renegade Jade blood called the Dolorosa had taken pity on him and smuggled him away. Now, he was nearly an adult, lingering on that cusp of being a wriggler where he was maturing in his thoughts and his body. With it came startling visions. Flashes of kindly smiling highbloods playing a game of some sort with lowbloods. A violetblood papping the face of a yellowblood, a pale chirp sounding in their chest. A world where a moirallegiance such as that and many other quadrants and friendships that he had seen could actually exist. Impossible. Or was it? The visions kept coming even now and had begun happening with startling frequency.

He sat, fingers sifting through the gravel at the edge of the rocky outcrop that housed their cave shelter, staring at the expanse of grass and trees before him. At first, nothing happened. Then like water trickling into a basin, pressure began mounting behind his eyes. Then it hit him. Electric and terrifying the flash of image, sound, and knowledge buzzed across his skin like a lightning strike.

A fight. Blood both high and low splattered onto cobblestones. Himself, standing on a wooden stage of some sort, older, skin the dark color of an adults, shouting. An indigoblood lurching towards him, face paint splashed across highblood-rage red eyes, movement wild. Another figure rising out of the mass, shouting his name, stretching out a black gloved hand, yellow jumpsuit torn. Then a blast of red and blue light crackled in the air and the Juggalo was thrown to the side, out of the way. The yellow clothed figure leapt onto the stage, and as the vision faded the image of the concern in those red and blue eyes sank into him, leaving goosebumps.

Kankri blinked once. Then twice. Then looked around, realizing the moons were overhead now. He stood, brushing dirt and bits of gravel from the back of his leggings, wrapping his cloak around him tighter as he sank into the darkness of the cave. Inside, the three sleeping rolls arranged around the burnt out embers of the fire were barely visible in the whispers of moonlight at the entrance.

That was a good thing, for when the sun rose the burning rays wouldn’t reach other the lip of stone to scorch them in their sleep. His eyes grew accustomed to the near total darkness and he tiptoed past the already sleeping forms of his matesprite, Meulin, and his guardian, the Dolorosa. They had gone to bed early, and it seems like Meulin had gone to check on him while he’d been caught in the vision because a note was left on top of his bed roll. _Kankri_ , it said, in careful print. _I recorded what mew were saying from your vision and left mew alone, I know that’s how mew prefer to come out of them. I managed to convince ‘Rosa that she should come to bed and that your visions would surely wake mew as the sun rose. Get some sleep, but expect her to be fussy about mew tomorrow, she hissed at me in what was most definitely a purrety protective way when I scolded her. Pity mew. Meulin._

He smiled fondly, folded the note, and stuck it in the deep pocket on his cloak, unbuttoning the gray fabric and folding it before laying it to one side. While he untied his boots and left them next to the folded cloak he tried to remember the last time they had slept in a town. Kankri slid into his bed roll, thankful for the thick padding that prevented every rock on Alternia from stabbing him in the spine, but still wished that they at least had gotten to spend the night somewhere with sopor.

You never knew when the nightmares would come without it, and it was always a great thing to have. A troll never did sleep soundly unless they were in a recuperacoon filled with the priceless fluid, but they weren’t exactly welcome in every town. That was the price to pay for his blood, and the Disciple had willingly accepted that fate when she’d befriended them and began travelling with them, even before they had been quadranted.

He rolled over, stretched his feet out, feeling the fleece lining rub against his cotton socks. As he closed his eyes, the image of a red and blue mismatched gaze floated before his vision. The expression on the young adult’s face was full of compassion and his heart skipped a beat at the memory of the sight. He didn’t even know who the troll was. They hadn’t met. At least not yet. But there was something infinitely familiar about him. Like Kankri had known him his entire life. That wasn’t surprising. His visions didn’t only show him the far off future of impossible paradise and equal treatment for everyone. He also saw little things like the vision of the yellowblood. Things in his life to come. He had only to walk forward trusting what he saw and hope that he’d finally get to meet the troll who would look at him in such a way.

Who was he? Where was he right now? What circumstances would come to pass where they would meet and become close enough to care for one another in that way. Who was he to him, even? The thoughts wouldn’t stop racing around his head like a pack of hoofbeasts on the run and he shook his bangs out of his eyes, opening them to stare into the cool dark of the cave. The long night started to catch up to him, however and his eyelids slipped closed. They’d be on the move the next moonrise so he needed his sleep.


End file.
